


The Unforgiven

by HepG2



Series: Heroic Ages: The Unforgiven [5]
Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Angst and Feels, Betrayal, Drama, Gen, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, Panic Attacks, The Illuminati (Marvel), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-10 12:39:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13501820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HepG2/pseuds/HepG2
Summary: “The ego on you! The astronomical ego! I told you that congress wanted to hold you accountable for all of Norman Osborn’s actions! I told you that I convinced them not to go forward, and you told me that you would behave, that you would be a model Avenger.” For what it’s worth, Tony tastes copper and acid every time that conversation flits back into memory. “And so you just decide that you should have a secret group with a secret agenda.”When betraying Steve feels like second nature.Still hurts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, you beautiful people! This takes place during Parker Robbins' effort in collecting the Infinity Gems. This is also the last installment for the Heroic Ages series, so, enjoy! Comments of any shapes and sizes are most welcomed!

The basement workshop doesn’t have windows for obvious reasons, and any reflective surfaces are either well-greased and coated matt. Not having to look at his own reflection is good. Not being reminded of the guilt is good. Tony hates the sight of his face, and he’s stewing in his swivel chair, one hand guiding the soldering iron along the ridges of his motherboard, the other steadying a piece of holder to a transistor’s legs.

 

He wonders until when the lies will continue.

 

A fleck of solder hits him in the cheek and he wince –

 

“Dammit –”

 

It’s a mockery to Steve’s intelligence, and their newly rebuilt friendship, by thinking that he and he alone can safeguard the secrecies of the Illuminati from… everyone else. Think this doesn’t take a toll on him?

  
“Fuck – where’s that rag…”

 

But it’s necessary, he reminds himself. It’s for the greater good, for worldwide peace. Only they can do this. This… arrogance, the “why” Steve is always standing over there _with_ the people he swears to protect, and Tony _here_ , watching over them all from afar.

 

“Damn _it_ –”

 

“Bad day at work?”

 

“Jesus _Christ_!”

 

Tony drops the soldering gun altogether that it rolls off the table and dangles between him – still hunched over his project while seated in his chair – and Steve Rogers, who’s tottering a plate of sandwiches. He smiles toothily at Tony, before pointing absentmindedly at the only vacant spot on the table.

 

“Can I put your lunch here?”

 

“Uh, no. That’s a hot plate, and it’s heated to three digits Celsius. Gimme that. I’m starving.”

 

Steve pulls himself a chair while Tony pulls the sandwich into his mouth. He hasn’t washed his hands, he hasn’t turned off his soldering gun, but he doesn’t care. He’s having lunch accompanied, and not even Salmonella can stop him.

 

“You want to return to the world of the living at five?” Steve asks as he watches Tony munch on the stack of crispy lettuce, onion ringlets, smoked turkey slices and mayo, all carefully slotted between perfectly toasted slices of wholemeal bread.

 

Tony checks his wristwatch and frowns. “Five? That’s like in an hour time.”

 

“You’ve been here for a day, Tony.”

 

“So?” He wipes his chin furiously with the back of his hand. “I’m busy.”

 

“An evening run will do you some good.”

 

“Running? Like, around the block? How about you teach me some moves in the gym, hmm? I recall you telling me a specific manoeuvre to throw off somebody of a larger physique, useful in tight spaces.”

 

“That’s more for Natasha, but if you want me to show you –”

 

“Then shouldn’t _she_ be showing me how to do it?”

 

“If you want to learn _her_ moves, by all means.”

 

Tony’s knees nudge Steve’s in retaliation, and Steve chuckles.

 

This is how good times feel like. Tony misses it, wants it to never end, wants Steve to be here by his side, eyes bright and full of life. Not boring into him like there’s nothing left worth salvaging.

 

Nothing left worth saving.

 

“Right. Five sharp, Stark. The upstairs gym.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

The soonest Steve leaves the workshop with an empty platter in tow, Tony wipes errant crumbs from his mouth and turns off the lights. He saves his files, stows half-baked prototypes into lockers and has the workshop on lockdown. He’s booked for the evening. He’s joining Steve Rogers for a run, or a round with the sandbag, or a dance – it doesn’t matter. His evening belongs to Steve.

 

At four-forty-five his palm sizzles, and with it, the smile plastered on his face for the past half an hour. He knows the rhythm. It’s a call from one of the Illuminati members for an assembly. They haven’t met in months! This is peace in their time!

 

He drops his duffel bag, his towel and his water bottle. Titanium iron wraps around him, and one by one the suit’s function comes online. He takes off from the side door, the one specific for Iron Man adventures – one he hasn’t used in ages.

 

 _Felt_ like ages.

 

He shoots upward to the eastern wing of the Tower, and he spots Steve by the window, doing stretches on a bench. He has that sharp look on him, focused on the deed. Tony misses fighting by Steve’s side.

 

He patches Iron Man’s communication line to Steve’s cell, and watches Steve reach into his bag for it.

 

“Tony?”

 

“Steve. I don’t know how to say this, but I –”

 

“Have an urgent business to attend to.”

 

“… Steve, listen, I –”

 

“I understand how much Resilient matter to you. I appreciate you joining us here on your off days, Tony, I really do. We’ll keep in touch. Call me if you need anything.”

 

“… Yeah.”

 

Steve continues to do stretches and push-ups in the gym alone because Tony’s _here_ and about to do shit behind Steve’s back. He darts away towards a pre-determined set of coordinates – they’re not meeting at Funtime Inc this time because… reasons, he supposes – and tries to erase the echoes of Steve’s words in the recesses of his skull.

 

Tries to, and fails.


	2. Chapter 2

“Is this really necessary?” Tony pounds the table once with his helmet. “The Avengers got him good, all right? Locked him up someplace with what, six burly guys armed to the _teeth_ watching over him twenty-four-seven. Like hell he’s on the loose.”

 

“We are not meeting to point fingers, Stark –”

 

“You do well to furnish these gentlemen with evidence, Stephen. Last I checked,” and Tony pulls up a holographic video of a man with sallow skin and sunken eyes, trapped in a metal coffin mounted against a wall. “Parker Robbins is still in jail. Check out the time stamp. It’s _this morning._ You’re telling me he escaped last night.”

 

“Tony –”

 

“No, Reeds. A _glitch_ isn’t a great reason to summon all of us from God knows which corner of the Earth –”

 

“ _Tony_ –”

 

“Do better, gentlemen!” Even the empty sockets of the Iron Man helmet seem to glow blue as Tony run his fingers through his hair and considering pulling a patch right over his ear. “We _can’t_ afford to make mistakes!”

 

“Tony, calm down,” Reeds Richards begs, both hands raised placatingly. “Your video feed _is_ the glitch. Somebody altered the time stamp on the security channels. A couple of cameras ended up playing in a loop.” He kills Tony’s switch so that the face of one Parker Robbins sizzle into thin air. He pulls out a wad of papers from his bag. “Printed these out on my way here. He’s gone, Tony.”

 

Tony’s looking at an empty cell. “The Raft released these footages?”

 

“No.” The papers return to Reeds’ bag. “I have my sources.”

 

“Fine. The Hood’s back in business. If you want me to sic the Avengers on him, I’m only a phone call away.”

 

“This man is searching for the Infinity Gems,” Medusa finally says, and she steps closer to the long table. “I suspect the Gem in my husband’s safekeeping has been taken. I fear that we are too late.”

 

All the good times he’d left behind in Manhattan seem so petty suddenly, and Tony’s features turn grim. They make haste to the Himalayas, to what is supposed to be a former Attilan City. Much has changed, Medusa said. Tony can’t tell for sure. He knows it’s uninhabited. His sensors of all kinds confirm it. He knows they’re probably not the first visitors in recent week. He picks up fresh footprints on an otherwise unperturbed, dusty ground.

 

And then, he picks up some good twenty humanoid forms emanating heat at roughly thirty-seven Centigrade. Humans. The figure leading the troop has a slightly higher core temperature. Tony’s insides shiver.

 

There’s a crash from above, and the Illuminati look up at once in sync, save for Tony.

 

“I think we are needed above.” He scoops his helmet from the table and marches out, only to fall to his knees – he doesn’t see it happening, there’s a blackness setting in his vision – and a sharp pain where his body hits the floor. Someone’s holding him up by his underarm, and someone else is calling his name. He thinks, in the vagary. There’s a fucking vacuum in his headspace but _Steve_ is up there, and he has to, has to –

 

“Go. See what is happening. I’ll stay with him.”

 

“But, Stephen –”

 

“If he needs medical attention, which amongst us is best suited? Go!”

 

Dust stirs up from where Tony is –

 

“Tony?”

 

He gasps, his right fist balling futilely against the cool sheen of gold titanium alloy. In the dimness of the burial chamber, the gentle blue from the arc reactor seeps between the gaps of his gauntlet.

 

“Breathe. Easy, that’s it.”

 

It hurts inside. He takes a deep breath, and stares holes into the floor. He waits until the rubber band constricting his chest is gone, and his lungs and throat are working again, and his world becomes lucid once more.

 

“Tony, you have to stop doing this…”

 

He swallows thickly and puts more weight into his feet. “Nope. Help me up.”

 

“This is clearly hurting you! I can send you home, through a portal. Steve doesn’t have to know.”

 

“ _No,_ Stephen. I say, help me up.”

 

“Stop doing this to yourself –”

 

“I _can’t_ , can I?” Tony grits his teeth, and he clutches the side of the table, using it as a leverage to pull himself up. “This is the right thing to do. And what we do requires sacrifices.”

 

“Like what? Your conscience?”

 

“Don’t you dare –”

 

“This isn’t about doing the right thing. This,” and Strange waves about Tony’s form, “is about betraying Steve again.”

 

“Steve has got _nothing_ to do with this.”

 

“Then let me send you home.”

 

“No.”

 

Strange growls in frustration and turns his back against Tony. Tony welcomes it. He won’t put it past Strange to zap him with either a portal back to Manhattan or a fireball of fury. He wets his lips and takes another gulp of air. “If the cat’s out of the bag, I owe Steve an explanation. I can’t hide, Stephen. I owe him that much.”

 

“… He’ll be the death of you.”

 

Tony can only huff. “I was his.”


	3. Chapter 3

Tony ascends the steps slowly, his helmet already in place. It protects him from the cruel chilliness of the Himalayas snowstorm, and Steve’s glare coming his way. Steve isn’t surprised, so someone has come clean. About time. Strange hovers quietly behind him, somewhere off to the left, and Tony averts his eyes when he can no longer bear the brunt of Steve’s unspoken accusation. It rings loud and clear in the void of his helmet space.

 

“Tony,” Steve greets, his voice steady and unbetraying. “What are you _doing_?”

 

Strange floats forward and inserts himself between them, his form wrapped by the ethereal reddish glow of the unknown, fully charged, just in case. The Avengers join rank, and Tony feels his breath catching in his throat again. Steve can’t see him this way, but he’s naked in spite of.

 

“I asked you a direct question, Iron Man!” Steve repeats himself over the howl of icy wind. “What are you doing here!”

 

“I’d rather have this conversation privately, Steve.”

 

Namor interjects, “This is not the place for this, Rogers.”

 

“Can we _please_ talk privately?”

 

Parker Robbins is merrily gathering Gems and Steve is _here_ and _furious_ and he’s _this_ close to losing his mind –

 

“Tell me this hasn’t been going on the entire time I’ve been in charge.”

 

At least Steve hasn’t punched him yet. Not that he would, the Avengers are flanking them, probably more for _their_ sake. And Steve never would because Steve is sensible and calm and peaceful, unlike –

 

“You need to calm down –”

 

“Tony –”

 

“How did you even find us out here?”

 

“Tony, stop! Just stop it!” He’s never going to fix things between them. He’s not good enough. “I know when you’re stalling so you can cook up a lie to cover yourself. Tell me the truth! Are you big brains getting together _behind my back_?”

 

He can see that Steve wants to say something more. He knows by how thin Steve’s lips have become, and how deep the frown has grown between his eyes. That’s the only sliver of Steve’s features that Tony can glimpse under all that facial protection Steve has on. They walk a bit more farther, and Steve finally says, “Are you really _that_ petty? Are you really that _angry_ that I’m in charge now instead of you?”

 

Why won’t Steve understand how he feels, truly?

 

“We’ve been getting together like this since the end of the Kree/Skrull war.”

 

When Steve peels his facemask off, Tony wants so to reach over and force it back over his head so bad because this is _insane,_ it’s negative something Celsius here and frostbite is such a killer –

 

“I can’t _believe_ you, Tony!”

 

“It isn’t personal, Steve.”

 

“I’m in charge of the security of the free world. Something like _this,_ you tell me!”

 

“I’m sorry your feelings are hurt.” Stop, please.

 

“ _My feelings?_ You think this is about _my feelings_?”

 

“This part here, yes.”

 

“The _ego_ on you! The _astronomical ego!_ I told you that congress wanted to hold you accountable for all of Norman Osborn’s actions! I told you that I convinced them not to go forward, and you told me that you would behave, that you would be a model Avenger.” For what it’s worth, Tony tastes copper and acid every time that conversation flits back into memory. “And so you just decide that you should have a secret group with a secret agenda.”

 

“This has been going on for _many_ years. This was going on when Nick Fury was in charge, when _I_ was in charge, and now.”

 

Steve’s breath fogs between them. “I don’t care what happened _then._ I care what happens today! And today, you’re telling me that _someone_ out there, not only discovered a secret that you thought was the most well-kept secret in the world, this secret held only by _this_ small group for all these years. This _man_ not only discovered that you were hiding the Infinity Gems, but already has his hands on _two_ of them?”

 

Tony looks back nervously over his shoulder. It’s a tell, and he knows his sentence is coming despite what he says. “Yes.”

 

“ _How,_ Tony?” The sigh and the drop in Steve’s shoulders and the _sheer_ disappointment etched on his face, burns. “How did this _happen_?”

 

Among all the Avengers who have assembled, only Thor comes forward to join them, for it is his duty and place to gift respite. He says, “Brothers, we need to deal with the task at hand.” As right and appropriate as that may be, it’s too little, too late. What’s done is done, with his own fucking hands. Steve speaks no more and marches back to where the Avengers are gathered and watching them from afar.

 

But midway, he turns around. “We do this,” he exclaims, “but after that, you’re _out,_ Tony. You’re done! And if something happens here that you have to account for, you’re going to. No more favours! No more special treatments!” There’s pain in his blue, blue eyes. “You pay for your sins, Tony. Like everyone else.”

 

Tony watches Steve rejoin the group, and Clint is first to address him. “Is everything OK?”

 

“No. OK, Infinity Gems. How many more are there?”

 

Tony promptly plucks his helmet off his neck, and nearly stumbles forward if not for Thor’s arms holding him up. He seems to expect that, and Tony has no words. He’s panting like there’s no air, but this is better, _much_ better than the episode in the burial chamber downstairs.

 

“You’re not well, Tony.” Thor’s voice rumbles beneath the freezing chaos. Tony has no idea how he does that. Maybe Asgardian magic is infused for the audio quality. And it soothes his heart. “Why do you do this when your heart tells you not?”

 

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” he gasps, and flicks snow off his moustache. “Because going down this path means making sacrifices.”

 

Thor shakes his head. “To spare Steve Rogers?”

 

“… Better me than him.”


	4. Chapter 4

With Black Bolt’s Gem gone, that’s two down, four to go. Parker Robbins is gaining on them. And these Gems, they want to be found. The First will speak to the Second, the Third will call to the Fourth. They’re running out of time.

 

“Tony?”

 

He looks up from the Quinjet controller and stares out of the windshield into the horizon. Some forty-thousand feet up in the sky and this is all there is to see. Just blue and white that stretches beyond.

 

“Tony?” Sharon Carter calls him softly. Of all people, seriously?

 

“Yeah. Sorry.” He clears his throat. “What is it?”

 

“We’re at cruising altitude.”

 

The altimeters agree. “… So?”

 

“So… set this to autopilot and take a break. You look like you need the rest. I’ll take over.”

 

He doesn’t argue with her, and promptly relinquishes control. She slides into his seat with ease and regains flight authority as he walks down the aisle in silence, past the rows and rows of Avengers. This isn’t his private jet, so there are only so many footsteps he can take before he runs out of floorspace to pace. And there’s no private room to hide himself in.

 

At least the one and only toilet is unoccupied. Small mercies.

 

He closes the door behind him and pulls the helmet off. He looks at himself in the mirror, really looks at the sweaty-faced, matted haired-sorry excuse for a friend, a brother, and an Avenger. What he wouldn’t give to have water running out of a tap – if the sink has one – so he clasps his gauntlet over his face, not caring to check if the suit’s weaponry has already been turned off. The repulsor bulb in the middle of his palm still buzzes – he could be imagining it – and he counts to ten.

 

He’s not ready to royally screw up this whole gig. This thing he’s rebuilding with Steve. This whole regaining-Steve’s-friendship effort is effectively rubble and dust by now. His throat locks up and he stares at his reflection again. His eyes are red-rimmed, his lips parched, like a walking zombie if he ever sees one.

 

He can’t function like this. But the world demands him to, so he does. And he’s… he’s got to.

 

He pulls the door free and finds himself staring right at Steve Rogers. He almost died – his heart nearly stopped. Steve’s mouth opens a fraction before he closes them again, and he checks Tony from top to bottom in a sweeping glance. Not that Tony doesn’t appreciate the attention, but his insides burn something hot when Steve tries to speak again… before deciding against it.

 

Fine.

 

Tony takes one step aside, and makes for the aisle again –

 

“Are you all right?” Steve’s voice is raspy, but it rings true and clear. It stops Tony dead in his track.

 

“… No.”

 

He approaches Sharon at the front, still commandeering the Quinjet with mild boredom etched into her face. “You look better with your helmet on,” she quips. And as if on cue, the very same helmet he’d absent-mindedly left on the toilet’s sink hovers an inch above his shoulder.

 

“You forgot this,” Steve says.

 

It’s times like this that Tony wishes he can just put his foot down, slam his helmet onto the dash and the electronics and scream fucking stop. There’s just too much shit to wade through – it’s so much easier to flush everything out and start afresh. He’s _tried,_ God he has. It’s even in the goddam name – The _New_ Avengers! This should’ve worked.

 

“Where are we heading, Tony?” Sharon finally asks. About time really. “You keyed in the coordinates. I know the numbers, but surely you’re changing it now? We’re descending otherwise –”

 

“The coordinates are correct. We _are_ here.”

 

“Roswell, New Mexico? Area 51?”

 

Tony nods grimly. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

“What are we doing at Area 51, Iron Man?”

 

“I own it.”

 

The Quinjet lands without ado and dust sweeps high as the Avengers file down the ramp. Tony leads the troop with Steve and Peter flanking him, and they march through the gates with unease silence, until Steve, good ol’ Steve tries to break the tension up.

 

“You _own_ Area 51?” Steve asks. “Since when?”

 

Tony welcomes the effort – kudos, so much kudos. They’re only delaying the inevitable talk, be it with words or fists.

 

“The government quietly put it up for sale and I bought it.”

 

“I thought you were broke.”

 

“My broke is not the same as your broke. And this was years ago.” Which doesn’t change anything. Steve said it. What happened _then_ doesn’t count. “You know what? I’ll tell you what’s bothering me about this whole thing.”

 

“What’s bothering you is that I’m right.”

 

“What’s bothering me is that I think you’re more mad at you than you are at me. We’ve made hard choices in our lives. We’ve _all_ made hard choices. This life that we’ve chosen – _this life_ – it comes with insane choices that we have to make every day.”

 

Tony holds his hand up and signals to the rest of them to stop. There’s light on the ground now, light as blue as his repulsor, and Tony steps on an illuminated circular engravement. The others slowly follow suit, and a cool, mechanical voice intones, “Tony Stark, voice print identified. Welcome, Tony.”

 

“Compromises that we have to make _every day._ And I don’t think you like some of yours.”

 

Some sort of stainless steel braces emerge from the ground to scan Tony in the face and chest. He stops talking and Steve clears the perimeter, while everyone else watches with rapt attention. It’s standard operating procedure with Tony’s gadgetries. Watch and learn. The explanation will come later, _if_ he feels generous.

 

“In fact, no one knows more than you how much unbridled ego comes with the job.” He steps aside, and one by one the Avengers step forward to meet the braces and have themselves scanned. “To be who we are, to represent what we represent, you have to be arrogant enough to believe you can do it. It’s ego that got us here and it’s ego that allows us to stay. Yes, we took the damn Infinity Gems, and we did so because we thought they were safe with us. It was arrogance and it was ego. And it was absolutely right, for all this time.” Steve’s expression is hard to read, but he can’t stop talking and unloading and screwing things up. “So though you may think it’s your job to judge me and the others for what we did here, I think it’s nothing. Nothing compared to the things we’ve had to do to keep this world safe. _Nothing._ ”

Steve is last to be scanned. The braces descend into the ground after him. “Maybe I just don’t see the world the same way you do.”

“Says the man who spent most of his adult life dressed in the American flag.” Cheap. “Let’s go. This is it.”

 

And to nobody’s surprise, his box is empty. Yeah, he’s failed them all. That, too, is to nobody’s surprise.


	5. Chapter 5

Tony Stark doesn’t fear death. Not his own anyway. When today is as good as it gets and tomorrow won’t be improving anytime soon, what’s the point of going on? Why not plug his mouth with the barrel of a Glock and… be done with it? Just one pull. Done deal. The world is better off. _He_ is better off. But Pepper will call and say things are picking up. Steve will knock on the door of his hidey-hole and promise he’ll help. Rhodey will pick him up and bro-smack him around until he comes to his senses. He can’t give up because people won’t let him. Good people. People who trust him, who see in him a man whose services are still needed on this good Earth. Tony trusts _them._

 

Today, the thing he fears most happens. His sensors pick up Parker Robbins first, and before he can do anything about it, the Avengers are thrown bodily first into the sides of the mountains. He doesn’t know for how long they’re left unconscious, open and vulnerable to attacks. What’s stopping the wielder of all six Gems from obliterating their forms to the last quark, stripping them atom to atom until there’s nothing left to strew about the galaxy? Tony wakes first, and he is sure that he lies among the dead.

 

“Armour?”

 

“All systems online.”

 

“Parker Robbins’ location?”

 

“Seven point four energy fluctuation of unknown origin seven hundred and thirty two feet southwest.”

 

“… Yeah, I see it. Everyone else OK?”

 

“Steady vitals detected from fourteen sources in a sixteen-yard radius.”

 

“That will do.”

 

One by one, they wake and they stir and they get back up to fight. It’s the mission, it’s what’s demanded of them, and they do it to the very end, to the last breath in their breast. And God knows there’s no telling of what will happen each time they go into a skirmish. Tony would sooner expect this battle to be the one that does him in than to have the actual Gauntlet in his possession. There the Infinity Gauntlet sits over his Iron Man one, metal on metal, but the revving of unlimited power shakes him to his very bones.

 

Steve’s eyes never left Tony since he puts it on.

 

“Bunch of hypocrites!” yells the thoroughly defeated Robbins despite the blood and filth spewing from his mouth. “If you lost your powers, not one of you wouldn’t tear this world in half to get them back! Bunch of _rich_ hypocrites! And, may I remind you, it took all of you – _all of you_! – to take me on!”

 

The Gems glower with tranquil fury, and Tony is this close to pulling the Gauntlet off and throwing it into the ground.

 

“OK, so now you got the Gems.” Robbins advances on Tony, a finger pointed into his scowling metallic mask. The Avengers fold in but it is Steve who signals them to fall back. It’s Tony’s call now. And still, Steve watches. Robbins staggers to keep himself upright, and he says, “ _You_ get the glove. So what are _you_ going to do? Same thing I was going to. Make the world the way you want it and _screw anyone_ who doesn’t see it the same way!”

 

The Gauntlet feels surprisingly light on his hand. “What will I do with it? I could…” Tony flexes his fingers, and the Gauntlet obeys. The Gems shine just as brightly in harmony, and their collective brilliance is bewildering. “I could take back things I should never have said or done. I can create a world without war. I can make a world without alcohol or drugs. Without hate or jealousy. But then it wouldn’t be the world we live in. Nothing would be learned, nothing would be gained. We wouldn’t advance as a species. In fact, I bet we would devolve. I could make the world the technological paradise I know it one day will be. I can see my father again. But, being such a rich hypocrite… I’m only going to do two little things.”

 

First, he wills Parker Robbins to go back where he belongs – in jail.

 

“And, what’s the second thing, Tony?” Steve asks after the armour confirms that Robbins’ physical presence is gone from their vicinity. “You said two things.”

 

“The second thing… the second thing is, I use the power of the Gems to wish the Gauntlet and the Gems out of existence.”

 

Only Strange shakes his head in disappointment. “I would have… I really would have advised _against_ what you just did.”

 

“Take it off the table and we never have to worry about any of this ever again.”

 

“Well, in theory, Iron Man.”

 

“It’s done.” His weaponry shuts down and the whirring quietens. “If you’ll excuse me, it’s been a long day. I’m sorry it all went down this way.” It’s done. _He’s done._ He takes off into the sky and never looks back.

 

Or so they want the Avengers to believe. On one hand there’s ego and arrogance, and on the other it’s about doing the right thing. Funtime Inc remains as desolate as they last remember, and the long table they used to congregate around has begun to collect an inch-thick layer of dust.

 

“I believed you, Stark,” says Strange the moment Tony shows his mug in the dingy basement. “I believed you destroyed it.”

 

“Well, Doctor, I’ve lived long enough to know that would have been a huge mistake one way or another, because the universe is nothing but cause and effect.”

 

“Action and reaction,” Reed Richards agrees.

 

“The universe would have responded… somehow.”

 

The basement door opens once more, and Namor’s frown deepens as a newcomer joins their midst. “… There’s nothing black and white about this anymore, is there? Let’s do what we came here to do.”

 

Tony sets the Gauntlet on the table and plucks the Gem off their sockets. They don’t retaliate, so thank God for that – he appreciates the show of confidence from his fellow Illuminati as they all back off a clear six feet from him. “Now you see?” Tony speaks. “Now you see why we do this? Now you see that there are just some things not for public consumption?” He takes Space for himself, and gives Power to Namor, Soul to Strange. “There are things we have to take care of quietly. Some things the world, even the Avengers are better off _not_ knowing about.”

 

He plucks the final Gem from the Gauntlet – Time – and gives it to Steve Rogers.

 

“OK, Tony. I’m with you. I’m in. But, let’s all try to find better hiding places this time.”


End file.
